Harlequin Romance July 2013 Bundle: A Cowboy To Come Home ToHow to Melt a Frozen HeartThe Cattleman's Ready-Made FamilyRancher to the Rescue

by Donna Alward

  Krissie tugged on Tess’s blouse. ‘Cam loves us, Auntie Tess.’ She grinned as if it were the best news in the world.

  ‘Course he does,’ Ty scoffed, as if he’d always known as much.

  She swallowed. Had she truly thought they wouldn’t welcome another person into their lives? It was obvious that they’d welcome Cam.

  Except...

  Her heart started to wilt. Loving someone meant supporting their dreams. Cam’s dream was to go to Africa—to experience the world, to make a difference. She couldn’t stand in the way of that.

  ‘Loving someone means risking your heart, even if you’ve vowed to never do that again, even if you don’t feel ready to take that leap.’

  He was going to risk his heart for her, wasn’t he? She wanted him to. Oh, how she wanted him to, but...

  Africa. His dream.

  ‘I want you all to know that I won’t be going to Africa after all.’

  Applause broke out along with several cheers. Tess couldn’t bear to glance around. Her heart had slumped to her ankles.

  ‘I’m going to fight for the life I want. I’m going to fight for my dream. If that dream proves impossible, I’m going to stay here in Bellaroo Creek anyway. I’m not going to turn my back on the town. This is where I belong.’

  He climbed down from the stage and made his way directly to where she stood. Taking both Krissie’s and Ty’s hands, he led them away to the far side of the room and knelt down to speak to them. With his back to her she couldn’t see what he said. She could only see the smiles that lit the children’s faces, their decisive nods, and the hopeful glances they sent her way.

  She wanted to close her eyes. She couldn’t let him do this. When he rose and beckoned to her, she pulled in a breath and moved towards them. With a smile designed to heat her from the inside out, Cam took her hand. ‘You guys go join the party again. Your aunt and I are going to talk.’

  And with that he led her out of a side door and away from the noise of the hall until they stood beneath the fronds of a pepper tree that partially hid them from view. He stared down into her face, plucked one of the fronds from her hair, but he didn’t say anything.

  Loving someone means wanting them to be happy.

  ‘When did you realise I’d fallen in love with you, Cameron?’

  He touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. He kept a firm grip on her hand. ‘That day at my mother’s.’

  ‘It was the day I realised I loved you.’ She paused and bit back a sigh. ‘I don’t think I’m very good at keeping things from you.’

  His lips lifted. ‘I’m glad about that.’

  She gently detached her hand and moved a couple of steps back until she leant against the hard, rough trunk of the tree. He stiffened. ‘I hope you mean to tell me what’s troubling you now?’

  Oh, how she would miss him!

  Behind her, she closed her fingers about the rough bark. She dragged in a breath that hurt her lungs. ‘All your life you’ve taken responsibility for other people. For your father when he cut himself off from the world, and for continuing his legacy in providing your mother with a haven if she should ever need it. For taking on the management of the property your stepfather left to her...and even for helping Lance find his feet. You help Edna and Ted Fairchild run cattle so they can stay in the home they love, and heaven only knows how many other people you help out in a similar way. You’re amazing, Cameron, a true-blue hero. I swear I have yet to meet anyone with more decency and integrity.’

  He adjusted his stance, legs wide and hands on hips, and her heart stuttered in her chest. ‘Why, then,’ he said, ‘am I suddenly not happy to hear this?’

  She ached to rush forward and throw her arms around his neck and tell him how much she loved him, but...

  He deserved to chase his dreams.

  ‘Because all your life you’ve taken on everyone else’s responsibilities, but now you have a chance to travel and to find out where you truly want to be.’

  ‘I know where I want to be.’

  She wanted to believe him, but... ‘Do you know how much responsibility it is raising two kids? Do you know how needy and...and...Cam, we—Ty, Krissie and me—we’re not your responsibility.’ She might not have given birth to Ty and Krissie, but they were hers now and she loved them as if she had. ‘I know when you look at us you see a single mum with two kids who need rescuing, but—’

  ‘Garbage!’ He slashed a hand through the air, making her blink. ‘I look at you, Tess, and I see an incredibly strong woman who manages to make me laugh even when I’m feeling my bleakest and grumpiest. I look at you and see a desirable woman I want to take to my bed and make love with thoroughly and comprehensively.’

  She pressed hands to cheeks that burned.

  He moved in close until all she could smell was the scent of cut grass and hot man, and all she could see was him.

  ‘I look at you, Tess, and my soul sings and my heart is at rest and there’s glitter in my world.’

  He reached out to touch her face. ‘I don’t see a woman who needs rescuing. I see a woman with a safety net ready for me if I should ever fall. Tess, when I look at you I don’t see a responsibility. I see my future. I see my soul mate. I see the woman I love.’

  Her heart all but stopped.

  His hands clenched, his eyes blazed with resolution. ‘I don’t know how long it will take me to convince you of the truth of that, but I want you to know I’m going to dedicate my life to doing exactly that.’

  ‘But Africa,’ she whispered. She wanted him happy. She wanted him to follow his dream.

  ‘To hell with Africa! It was my consolation prize. I’m not running away. I’m not leaving Bellaroo Creek. And let me tell you another thing.’ He jabbed a finger at her nose. ‘I’m not making way for some other single farmer to make a move on you.’ He thrust out his jaw. ‘I’m not going anywhere!’

  She stared at him. He stared back, his eyes a glowing, gleaming green. ‘Africa is not where I want to be. Wherever you are, Tess, that’s where I’m going to make my home—whether that be at Kurrajong House, your little farmhouse or in Sydney.’

  He meant it. Every single word.

  And she could see the exact moment when he clocked her belief in him. His smile was like drought-ridden land coming back to life after vital rain.

  He reached out to cup her face. ‘Your eyes tell me you’re going to say yes when I ask you to marry me.’

  She grinned. She couldn’t help it. She reached up to touch his cheek, before moving in closer to wind her arms about his neck. ‘Yours tell me you’ve already asked for the children’s permission.’

  ‘They gave it gladly.’

  Of course they had. They adored Cam as much as she did. ‘My eyes don’t lie, Cameron. I love you. My heart is completely and utterly yours.’

  Just as his was hers. And she meant to treasure it and keep it safe for ever.

  He stared down at her as if her words were magic. She moved against him suggestively. ‘So, what do you mean to do with your Bellaroo Creek bride once you have her?’

  His head dipped towards her, blocking out the sun. ‘I mean to make her the happiest woman on the planet,’ he murmured against her lips, before he captured them in a kiss of such pure joy Tess felt as if she were flying and swooping among the treetops.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Man Behind the Pinstripes by Melissa McClone

  Rancher to the Rescue

  Jennifer Faye

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

 
; CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  WHY DO PEOPLE insist on pledging themselves to each other? Love was fleeting at best—if it existed at all.

  Cash Sullivan crossed his arms as he lounged back against the front fender of his silver pickup. He pulled his tan Stetson low, blocking out the brilliant New Mexico sun. From the no-parking zone he glanced at the adobe-style church, where all of the guests were gathered, but he refused to budge.

  His grandmother had insisted he bring her, but there was no way he’d sit by and listen to a bunch of empty promises. Besides, he’d met the groom a few times over the years and found the guy to be nothing more than a bunch of hot air. Cash would rather spend his time wrestling the most contrary steer than have to make small talk with that blowhard.

  He loosened his bolo tie and unbuttoned the collar of his white button-up shirt. Gram had insisted he dress up to escort her in and out of the church—even if he wasn’t planning to stay.

  What he wouldn’t give to be back at the ranch in his old, comfy jeans, instead of these new black ones that were as stiff as a fence rail. Heck, even mucking out stalls sounded like a luxury compared to standing here with nothing to do.

  A woman in a white flowing dress caught his attention. She was rushing along the side of the church. Abruptly she stopped and bent over some shrubs. What in the world was the bride doing? Looking for something?

  This was certainly the most entertainment he’d had in the past half hour. He shook his head and smiled at the strange behavior. When she started running down the walk toward his vehicle, he tipped his hat upward to get a better view.

  A mass of unruly red curls was piled atop her head while yards of white material fluttered behind her like the tail of a kite. Her face was heart-shaped, with lush lips. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  Her breasts threatened to spill out of the dress, which hugged her waist and flared out over her full hips. She was no skinny-minny, but the curves looked good on her. Real good.

  He let out a low whistle. She sure was a looker. How in the world had boring Harold bagged her?

  He couldn’t tear his gaze from her as she stopped right next to his pickup and tried to open the tan SUV in the neighboring parking spot. Unable to gain access, she smacked her hand on the window. Obviously this lady had a case of cold feet—as in ice cold—and hadn’t planned an escape route. At least she’d come to her senses before making the worst decision of her life.

  The bride spun around. Her fearful gaze met his. Her pale face made her intense green eyes stand out bright with fear. Alarm tightened his chest. Was there more going on here than a change of mind?

  She glanced over the hood of his truck. He followed her line of vision, spotting a group of photographers rounding the corner of the church. In the next second she’d opened his passenger door and vaulted inside.

  What in the world was she doing? Planning to steal his truck? He swung open the driver’s side door and climbed in.

  “What are you doing in here?”

  The fluffy material of her veil hit him in the face as she turned in the seat and slammed the door shut. “Drive. Fast.”

  He smashed down the material from her veil, not caring if he wrinkled it. He’d never laid eyes on this woman before today, and he wasn’t about to drive her anywhere until he got some answers. “Why?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Unless you want to be front and center in tomorrow’s paper, you’ll drive.”

  His gaze swung around to the photographers. They hadn’t noticed her yet, but that didn’t ease his discomfort. “You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

  “Of course not.” She sighed. “Do you honestly think I’d be in this getup if I was going to murder someone?”

  “I’m not into any Bonnie and Clyde scenario.”

  “That’s good to know. Now that we have that straightened out, can you put the pedal to the metal and get us out of here before they find me?”

  He grabbed the bride’s arm and yanked her down out of sight, just before the group of reporters turned their curious gazes to his pickup. Luckily his truck sat high up off the ground, so no one could see much unless they were standing right next to it.

  “What are you doing?” she protested, struggling.

  “Those reporters don’t know you’re in here, and I don’t want to be named in your tabloid drama. Stay down and don’t get up until I tell you to.”

  His jaw tensed as he stuffed the white fluff beneath the dash. He was caught up in this mess whether he wanted to be or not.

  Her struggles ceased. He fired up the truck and threw it in Reverse. Mustering some restraint, he eased down on the accelerator. Damn. He didn’t want to be the driver for this bride’s getaway, but what choice did he have?

  He knew all about reporters—they were like a pack of starving wolves, just waiting for a juicy story. For their purposes he’d be “the other man.” Scandals always made good sales—it didn’t matter if you were an innocent bystander or not. In the court of public opinion, when your face hit the front page you were crucified. He should know.

  Cash pulled his cowboy hat low, hoping no one would recognize him. He didn’t want to draw the attention of the reporters who were searching behind rocks, shrubs and cars. There would be no quick getaway. Slow and steady.

  When the bride once again attempted to sit up, he placed his hand on the back of her head.

  “Hey, you!” a young reporter, standing a few yards away, shouted through the open window.

  Cash’s chest tightened as he pulled to a stop. “Yeah?”

  “Did you see which way the bride ran?”

  “She ran around back. Think there was a car waiting for her.”

  The reporter waved and took off. Cash eased off the brake and rolled toward the exit. He hadn’t had a rush of adrenaline like this since his last showdown with a determined steer.

  “What’d you say that for? You’re making things worse,” the bride protested, starting to sit up.

  He pressed the side of her face back down. “Stay down or I’ll dump you in this parking lot and let those hungry reporters have you.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.” He was in no mood to play around with some woman who didn’t know what she wanted.

  Now he needed to get rid of this bundle of frills so his life could return to its peaceful routine.

  Before he could ask where she wanted to be dropped off she started to wiggle, bumping the steering wheel.

  “Watch it.” He steadied the wheel with both hands. “What are you doing down there?”

  “Trying to get comfortable, but I think it’s impossible. Are we away from the church yet?”

  “Just approaching the parking lot exit, but don’t get any ideas of sitting up until we’re out of town. I’m not about to have people tracking me down and bothering me with a bunch of questions I can’t answer.”

  “Thanks for being so sympathetic,” she muttered.

  He slowed down at the exit, checking for traffic before merging. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to hijack my truck.”

  “I didn’t have any other choice.”

  “Get cold feet?”

  “No...yes. It’s complicated.” She squirmed some more. “I don’t feel so good. Can I sit up yet?”

  “No.”

  The rush of air through the open windows picked up the spicy, citrusy scent of the colorful bouquet she was still clutching. A part of him felt bad for her. He’d heard about how women got e
xcited about their wedding day and, though he personally couldn’t relate, he knew what it was to have a special moment ruined, like getting penalized after a winning rodeo ride.

  He checked the rearview mirror. No one had followed him out of the parking lot. He let out a deep breath. So far, so good.

  He tightened his fingers around the steering wheel, resisting the urge to run a soothing hand over her back. “Where am I taking you?”

  “I...I don’t know. I can’t go back to my apartment. They’ll be sure to find me.”

  “You’re on the run?” He should have figured this was more than just a case of cold feet. “And what was up with the reporters?”

  “My boss thought the wedding would be a good source of free publicity for my television show.”

  “You certainly will get publicity. Runaway Bride Disappears Without a Trace.”

  She groaned. Her hand pressed against his leg. The heat of her touch radiated through the denim. A lot of time had passed since a woman had touched him—back before his accident.

  He cleared his throat. “I suppose at this point we should introduce ourselves. I’m Cash Sullivan.”

  He waited, wondering if there would be a moment of recognition. After all, he hadn’t retired from the rodeo circuit all that long ago.

  “Meghan Finnegan.” When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I’m the Jiffy Cook on TV, and the reason those men are armed with cameras is to see this hometown girl marry a millionaire.”

  Nothing in her voice or mannerisms gave the slightest hint that she’d recognized his name. Cash assured himself it was for the best. His name wasn’t always associated with the prestige of his rodeo wins—sometimes it was connected with things he’d rather forget. Still, he couldn’t ignore the deflating prick of disappointment.

  “I don’t watch television,” he said, gruffer than intended. “Okay, we’re out of Lomas and this road doesn’t have much traffic.”